


Immanence

by royalCaprice



Series: Divinity [1]
Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures, Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, This Is STUPID, all the Title jazz and stuff, i'll tag things as i get there, i'm not really sure what this belongs to???, i'm sorry if i don't do something right, idk what im doing, lots and lots of original characters - Freeform, lots of story because i like story, lots of tropes, technically AU right???, this is really just me having fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 17:44:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2077266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royalCaprice/pseuds/royalCaprice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are two types of divinity.  Transcendent divinity versus immanent divinity.  Divinity that exists above the world versus divinity that permeates the world.  The first is a sword from another forge, the second is metal yet to be molded. </p>
<p> I wonder, which is the one to forge a story?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> oh hello  
> this is a thing i'm doing  
> ill talk about it later  
> enjoy

Sometimes, you have nightmares. The things in your nightmares say that there is no one and nothing and you are alone, that you are all that exists from then on - and even that must come to a close. You would be surrounded by the comforting warmth of a fire one moment, but the next you would be drifting in nothingness as the loving embrace of that fire would leave you.  
As much as you'd wish you'd die or wake up from the vast nothingness you're floating in, you don't.  
The things whisper in your ear that time is running out.  
Sometimes, you fear that your nightmares are right. 

\- - -

Your name is Harley Evans, and your heart is not beating to a beat of a drum but pounding as if you had been running for the past half hour. Speaking of hour, it's three of those past midnight. Or at least the blinking red light a meter away from your face said. You have just bolted awake from a very awful nightmare, which was part of a collection of recurring dreams that have been haunting you for years now. It was far too early to do anything about the cold and slimy sweat you just noticed clinging to your twig-ish teenaged body. You opted to grab a shirt off the floor next to your bed - which for future reference, was elevated only a few inches off the ground - and wipe your face first, brushing your chest second, and lifting your arm to swipe at the offending bodily liquid third.  
You took the chance to sniff your sparsely-haired underarm to see if it was even " _that_ bad," you might argue. You would also argue that it was not, but let's face it - you're a sixteen-year-old teenage boy. It is, indeed, " _that_ bad." "It" and "that" being your bodily odor.

You attempt to take a deep breath and sigh but you casually forget your nose is rather close to an untamed odiferous beast called a teenage body, and you are assailed by the sweet masculine scent that is boy-becoming-a-man. Scrunching your nose up in slight protest against the mere existence of your stink, you put your arm down and try again. You are successful in your deep breath and deep sigh and lay your back down upon the vibrant red sheets once again, your head following suit to the fluffy pillows. You wrap yourself up with the numerous blankets you have collected, turning yourself into a burrito before you check your phone for a moment. The blast of blinding light is enough to make you whimper, so you do as you squeeze your eyes closed until you feel confident enough to open them slightly to adjust.

It takes a couple moments, but you have succeeded. Actually, it took minutes, and the only thing you do is send a text to someone whose name is not their name but an adjective. It may or may not rhyme with maggot.  
The text may or may not (but mostly may) read as follows:  
"dude save me i cant fall asleep"

You wait a little bit, checking all your various things for new messages and entertainment, but come up empty. Like usual. Not like anyone wants to talk to you anyways! Fine! Ugh! You set your phone back down on the corner of the bedside table, resolving to just text this mystery person when you wake up again. 

Your eyes are closed, your mind aching to shut down again. You let a fart rip and silently promise to shower first thing when you wake up but you're already asleep. 

 

_Sweet dreams, our prince._


	2. Existence, Chapter One - "Waking up is not as fun as sleeping."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi  
> here we are  
> exactly one week from last week  
> surprise  
> *throws an update and screeches*  
> enJOY

There was a dull sound in a mostly-square room. It was a slight hum, like someone left a light on. My eyes remained closed, halfway out of sleepiness and halfway out of stubbornness to seem asleep to anyone who might check on me and want me to do things.  
Then real consciousness came to me. The hum turned into a constant vibration below my pillow which I recognized as my phone – didn't I leave it on my table? – trying to get my attention because some asshole is calling it and it doesn't know what to do. But I do. And that thing to do? Ignore it. 

Alas, ignoring it takes a minute and that is enough time to chase away any semblance of going back to sleep. I stayed curled in the sweet comfort of my blankets, resting on the sweet love of my pillows. The imprint of my body in the bed called to me to not leave it, but this thing called being awake called me harder. Numbness in my right arm, which was pinned behind my head, prompted me to flop it to my side and wiggle the fingers for that sensation of blood flowing in my limb again.  
I started to move my legs so that I could get up but the overwhelming urge to stretch struck me like a carpenter's hammer on a nail. Me being the obedient dog I am complied and stretched with a loud groan mixed with a grunt as my joints popped. Feeling the refreshing wave of euphoria, I sighed and sat up, my hair a mess billowing in the wind. 

It was time to do things. 

I reached behind me towards my big pillow and tossed it back, revealing a pack – or, more specifically, a bunch of wrapped pieces in a pile – of cinnamon-flavoured gum. Next to this delicious cluster of mouth-watering throat-burning long-lasting not-really-food were my bright-ass red pants. They were skinnier than an anorexic and redder than shit. If your shit was red, that is. If so, please go to the doctor. Please.

I always kept my phone in the pocket of these pants. Why? Because these were my favourite pants. Plus I had a bad ability of remembering to take it out. Leaving my wallet in the other pocket had nearly cost me my hard-earned money on many occasions. Thankfully, I have a wonderful mommy who doesn't need to teach me lessons.  
I fished my phone from its hiding spot underneath aforementioned pants, taking my wallet out too, and checked who was interrupting my beauty sleep. The number was quite familiar, so much that I had it in my contact list as “Home #2”; they called two times before that, too, so I knew that it was important.  
That being said, there was no way I was going to call back for like another thirty minutes. 

To put the return call off, I checked my messages – there was one unread message from he-who-is-named-faggot. Upon reading it, I knew it's just a reply to the one I sent at who-cares-what-time-it-was this morning; I decide to reply to the reply. That reply I sent?  
“whoops i fell asleep”  
Genius. I am the connoisseur of replies. None are greater than I in such matters. It didn't matter that it was five minutes until noon and I was nine hours late. That being said, it did matter that I was hungry. Starving, even. Quite a wonder that a sixteen-year-old would be hungry. What a shocker! 

I was in no state of dress to leave my room, though. Not even boxers were covering me in my glorious bed. To fix this indecency, I leaned back over the other side of the bed where my discarded clothes were. I pulled my shirt back on, noting that it smelled like sweat and Mom was most definitely going to kick my ass into the shower if she got a whiff. The thing itself was pure black without a logo or markings and it was long enough that I contemplated foregoing any other oppressive clothing simply because they would be totally unnecessary. 

However, I knew better than that. I looked around for my underwear for half a minute before finding it at the foot of my bed and embarrassingly remembering why it was on that particular side. Now is not the time to cover that subject. I pulled the yellow-striped thin material on and grabbed my basketball shorts from the floor in front of my dresser. My favourite things to wear when I am as lazy as I am. I put the shorts on and admired how red (which was literally only one clothing) I was dressed before not caring anymore and crossing the disaster that is the cleanliness of my room.  
I opened the door and quietly padded my way down the hall and down the stairs without a thought other than food. I knew that my brother would be out for his football practice stuff and my dad would still be at work and Mom never left the backyard unless someone was screaming, looking for something, or whatever else triggered her motherly senses. 

Sure enough, after a precursory check, I was basically alone in the house. I so could have gotten away with wearing just a shirt! Oh well; it's better to be safe than sorry, and Mom would have most definitely made me feel sorry. And then she'd make me a sandwich.  
Speaking of which, I'm still hungry. How does one fix that? They scour every cupboard, collecting various ingredients – such as honey, bread, anything visible – before entering the refrigerator and gathering delicious homemade jam, meats (particularly roast beef), and condiments. Mustard is really the only condiment necessary, but it never hurts to have more.  
What does one do with all these things? They make a monstrosity. A delectable monstrosity, but a monstrosity nonetheless. Bread gets put to rest upon whatever one has designated the thing to put the bread on and then you lay on one side slices of your meats. The amount varies on your taste and how much is available, just as long as there is plenty to get a taste of. That sounded sexual. It might have been.  
Once the meat is ready, I like to put a small layer of jam on top of it before smothering it in honey mustard (if we are to get specific, but any mustard will do). Once it is prepped to perfection, honey may be added for sweetness and added glorification of creating a monster. Once this side is ready, you can opt to do the same to the other side for pure orgasm of taste in your mouth, or you can simply add some roast beef to the other piece of bread before combining the two halves to make a whole lot of beauty. 

Eat as is necessary. Do not be alarmed, it is quite delicious, despite what one would expect. Then again, only pregnant people have ever given it a try so I really don't know what to say on the matter. All I know is that I have just made one such monstrosity and I am devouring it as quickly as my body will allow me, and drinking it down with a nice refreshing glass of juice. On second thought, I should have checked what kind of juice this is because it tastes weird. 

Oh well. 

I proceed to devour the remainder of my delicious food with fervor seen only when there is food to be eaten. Obviously. While tempted to make a second one, Mom does not like it when I do that. Never really understood why, but I also don't question it. It is never good to question her.  
With nothing left to do in the kitchen other than crumple the paper towel sheet, I toss it in the garbage and head back upstairs to my room. Once there, I gather clothes to change into – pure gray boxer-briefs, a white shirt with a boot on it in some sort of indie-slash-hipster-y fashion, and of course my red shorts. I don't bother collecting socks for the same reason as I chose shorts over pants: it is way too hot out. And I'm lazy. I do not forget to pick up my black beanie, though; despite temperature, I am always to be found with that hat. 

With my collection of fashionable clothing in one arm, I depart my room once again and head down the hall, down the stairs, and down another hall until my hand touches the doorknob that opens to reveal the splendid bathroom. Okay, maybe it was not so splendid, but I loved it all the same. I pulled a towel from under the large cabinet next to a giant mirror, which was over the marble sink. This is the spot I set my new clothes down so that I could peel my stinky-ass shirt off and throw it into the hamper (which made me yell, “Booyaw!” and contemplate going into basketball in the upcoming school year). I pulled off the rest of my two clothes and tossed them haphazardly into said hamper. 

Naked, I stretched just to feel the cool air on my skin. I enjoyed it. Eventually, though, my enjoyment has to end, and it did when I stepped into the large space that was our shower. I closed the outer curtain and shut the glass door as to get all the steam to stay with me. I did not hesitate to pull the temperature knob and start the water, which dripped for a second before raging in full force. 

It was cold. Closer to freezing than it was to my ideal setting, but I sat there and let it cascade over me. The drops ran down my skin and I, of course, had to suppress a shiver. But then it heated up rather quickly, reaching scalding in a matter of like half a minute. As much as the cold thrilled me, it was warmth that I loved. I stayed there for minutes, letting the steamy water collide with my body and drip down, wetting every bit of skin on its way. I was slightly excited by it and how, in my mind, I imagined it was someone giving me loving touches. I enjoyed just standing there for at least ten minutes, but I did have to get things done before either I prune or my brother gets home. I took my shampoo and popped the lid, squeezing a little dollop and massaging it into my perfect platinum hair.  
It had been over two months since I did my hair a very silvery, almost lavender, kind of colour and it was as beautiful now as it was then, even if my roots had shown since then. Oh well, my dark brunet hair went well with it so I'm not going to complain.  
I let the water cleanse my beautiful hair of the strawberry shampoo and added the plum-scented conditioner that I've been buying longer than I've been a teenager; I left it alone and popped open my tube of body wash, eking out enough to lather up my upper body. I am not a particularly muscular person – especially when compared to my brother – but I am not devoid of tone. Whereas he had pure beefy muscles, I was very wiry and lean and far more slender. These are things that I only notice in the privacy of my lovely showers or when we play sports together. Since the latter does not happen ever anymore, it's something I forget quite often. 

That is, until I'm rubbing my bubble-covered hands over the tiny, solid lumps that are my muscles. Once I cover every inch of my front and back, I get another glob and lather it up and apply it to my waist and down. I spare no inch of skin nor thread of hair from the cleansing. 

I think you get the picture. 

I wash myself, letting the water remove most of what I applied, but I always use my hands to get rid of anything that decided to linger before rubbing my skin down for added effect. With nothing left to do but enjoy scalding-but-feels-like-warm water, I turn the shower off and open the door and curtain, releasing the steam. I take one step onto the linoleum floor (even if it feels like stepping into Antarctica from inside a warm tent) and marvel as steam rolls up and off me in a plume before grabbing my towel and making me not-so-wet anymore. In order to do that, I have to be rough, and so I am as I forcefully rub my arm with the towel so hard that the baby-soft skin is red. I do not worry about it and continue with the other arm and my face, then my chest and back before I attend to my legs. I am not forceful when it comes to drying my crotch, though, and prefer to just dab and softly graze my most sensitive skin. One time I was rough. Never again.  
Once complete, I towel my hair before setting the spent fabric to dry. I figure I'll take care of it later. 

Also once complete, I don my chosen outfit and admire myself in the mirror before combing my hair back and putting my beanie on. “I am complete,” my soft tenor murmurs. It is not a second after before I hear the bathroom door swing open somewhat violently. It just so happened to be my brother. “Yes, you are welcome to barge into the bathroom while it is occupied.” What a perfect greeting. Damn, I'm good at this. What I'm not good at is fighting, especially with the same brother who is giving me the evil eyes at the moment. I am giving him exasperated eyes. If there hadn't been steam in the room already, I daresay that he would be fuming hard enough to make more. I wonder what he could want?


	3. Existence, Chapter Two - "Unexpected visitors are everywhere"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello  
> i have returned  
> again  
> enjoy

“Get out.” His voice boomed around the room, face scrunched in a commanding sort of way. One might be intimated, but anyone who knows Stephen well enough knows that this is just how he acts.  
To me, at least. 

“You're the one who barged in here. Shouldn't I be saying that?” I deadpanned, staring him down. We've had a sort of sibling rivalry for years now, ever since he became a teen. And by that, I mean a raging douchebag. If we didn't live in the same house, we would never see each other. But since we do, every time we see each other, it's most likely to end up in a fight.  
At least, it feels like that. I'm probably just counting out the times we've been chill for some reason.

“No. Now get out.” He was rather snippy in his tone, so I figured that something must actually have pissed him off. Wasn't it my duty as a loving brother to make it worse?

“No. Ask nicely.” I apparently thought so.

I saw him roll his eyes before he said, in a much softer tone that wouldn't hurt your ears if you stood next to him, “Fine. Get the fuck out.” It looked quite difficult for him to say that, but I didn't feel like agitating the beast further so I turned towards the door (which was really just turning towards him considering he was still, y'know, in the doorway). ”Please,” he practically sighed out.

Gasp! The asshole had manners! I was both surprised and impressed. Didn't mean that I was going to be cordial, though. I still had the younger-brother rep to uphold. ”Whatever,”

and with that, I walked forward and shoulder-shoved through him and out the door. I heard the door close quietly behind me. I looked back, a little pang of concern hitting me. Usually, he would slam doors and never be polite. He would push me out of the room in cases like what just happened and scream his head off at me later. It was... odd. I wonder if something was actually bothering him and taking away from our rivalry? I don't like being second in the race of getting under his skin; I vowed to myself to find out what's going on.  
And while I'm at it, maybe I can find some dirt to gossip with my friends? Huh. Not the biggest fan of playing dirty, but I'd feel so bad passing up this opportunity.

I heard the door behind me open just as I began to turn into the living room. I looked back quickly, half out of habit from being hit by behind and half out of curiosity, "By the way, Marcus is out front." Oh. I forgot he was supposed to come over today. Good thing I got showered. 

"Potassium." That was my reply. I literally said that. I thought I heard Stephen mumble something before the door closed again and I stopped paying attention to what was happening in there. I turned around and went through the kitchen to the room hidden in the back, which was used mostly for gaming and movies. I might as well just call it an entertainment room.  
The best - and creepiest - part of this room was that it had a door that went to the backyard. It was nice for things like sleepovers, but it was extremely creepy when watching scary movies. I can't say I haven't screamed a very unmanly scream once or twice because of it. But, in the end, the great nights I've had outweigh the terrifying ones. I opened the door and poked my head out, looking for Mom. As usual, she was lounging in the chair situated right in front of the window to the entertainment room. She was looking right back at me, waiting for the excuse as to why she was being perturbed. Something told me she already knew. "Marcus is here. We're going to be in my room, but we might --"

"-- be in the back room later, yes, I know. I'll have his plate ready for him come dinner," she spoke with a graceful and exasperated tone of joy. Of course she knew. She knows all. She is Mom. Without questioning her methods, I closed the door and walked to the living room and looked out the window. I saw a dude about five-foot-seven sitting on the porch swing. His head of hair was covered by his hoodie, but I knew it was Marcus. 

I took my phone out and texted him something that may or may not have been "iiiiii caaaaaan seeeeee youuuuuu" before sticking my face into the window, smudging an imprint of my squashed nose and lips into the pane of glass. I totally looked so lovely, it was insane. I watched as Marcus took his phone out, read my message, and turned around.  
He must have been a future photographer or something because he snapped a picture so fast that I didn't get a chance to get out of the window. As I almost fell backwards from jumping away from the window, I laughed and went to the door. I waited as he moved his slow ass to the door and knocked his customary tune - me watching through the glass - before I opened it. I stood perfectly upright and let him do his thing. 

"Hey, hottie, what brings you here?" he smirked and leaned against the doorframe. This was a kid whose babyfat never truly left his face, was whiter than snow, had the geekiest glasses, and had a voice that loved to crack five times per syllable. I was obviously swept off my feet. 

"Food," I retorted, my eyes rolling as if they were bowling balls. As usual, his face fell into a pout and I caved. "And you. Ugh, your face is too good at that, now stop it." I was a kid who was skinnier than graphene and I had a farmer's tan that not even farmers got; I had no glasses (other than the necessary ones a hipster might own), but I did have a voice as smooth as marble... if that marble had been dropped from a fifty-story building. 

"So, do I get to come inside now?" he inquired as he leaned heavily onto the wooden frame, smiling.

"Absolutely not," I said as I gently shoved him through the entrance to my abode. "Up to my room for now?" I questioned, eager to get away from the prying ears known as Mom. 

"Wow, you're not even going to let me say hi to everyone before disappearing into your chateau?" Before I could stop him, he yelled with surprising power, "HOLA MOMMA, HOLA STEPHEN!"

Anyone with ears could hear the "HI, MARKY-BOO!" reply. I know I did. 

"The word you are looking for is _boudoir_. And no, now get moving! Hop to! Hop to! Please don't actually hop," I facepalmed as he bent his knees in preparation to actually hop. Ugh. This kid, I swear. He laughed vigorously and climbed up the stairs as a normal person would, and I followed closely behind until we got to my door, where I moved in front of him ninja-style and turned the knob, pushing the wooden contraption open and proclaiming,  "Ladies first."

"Oh, how chivalrous!" he exclaimed. As he walked by me and into my room, he dragged one hand across my chest and wagged his eyebrows. We both laughed and I closed the door before tackling Marcus onto my bed, pinning his wrists down.

"Say you're my bitch! Say it!" I yelled when he stopped struggling. He didn't respond to me demands so I dug my knees into the back of his thighs and lowered my mouth about an inch from his ear and whispered, "Admit to the world that you're my bitch." Before I could give a smug smile, I felt him kick my leg out from under me, forcing me to topple onto one side. I didn't even notice as his tiny wrists escaped my clutches. 

In one instant, I was on my back on the floor. The wind was knocked out of me from my fall, but it was aided by the knee on my gut. I was unable to get up because of the tiny, vicious vicegrips nailing my hands far apart on either side of me. "Who's the bitch, now, bitch?!" This was not a fight I was going to win. 

"Me," I whimpered.

"I can't hear you! I asked who is the bitch now!?" he yelled, tiny drops of spit landing on my face. I cringed reflexively due to my germaphobic nature.

"Me! I'm the bitch now! Now get the fuck off of me!" I mumble-yelled through gritted teeth, random sounds of pain escaping from my throat as he dug his knee down.

"As long as you know your place." And with that, he got off of me and I took a ragged breath, clutching my stomach. "Oh, don't be a little bitch, it was only one knee and a little bit of pressure."

I gave a lopsided smile and mumbled, "But I'm supposed to be the bitch now." I sat up, rubbing my stomach, before standing up to make my bed.

Marcus rolled his eyes. "Whatever, just quit y'r bitching." I laughed as his southern accent showed just a little. Even though he's lived in California for like ten years, his time in Arizona still affected his words every now and then. I was about to make a quick quip about it but he spoke first. "So, anyways, do you know what classes you got? There's only a couple days until junior year and we need - I repeat, need - to coordinate with everyone."

My immediate reply was to roll my eyes. Everyone made such a big deal about having the same classes with everyone else, but it didn't really matter - especially with me, since I was rather serious about class and didn't bother much with chatting. For the most part, at least. But I knew that there was no way of getting out of this, so I was at least going to be honest. Didn't mean I didn't have to be brutal about it, and with that I began, "Dude. I don't want to think of school yet, or how little I want to coordinate like we do every fuckin' year. It's stupid that you guys want to --"

"-- it's not stupid, it's convenient! And efficient! Don't doubt my plans! And besides, that's not what I meant! Almost everyone has some AP classes and I know that they can't get out of them, so I just want to coordinate who has what and when," he huffed. "After that, if anyone has any free classes... y'know. We can do the dumb thing and have classes so that I can actually see my friends. But whatever." His voice was dejected and I felt the need to console him, but I saw through his ruse. I was not about to be guilt-tripped so easily.

I laughed. My humour didn't work all that well. Ugh. I decided to give what little I felt like giving and said, "I have Studies with miss M first, AP English Lit with Newberg second, then Psychology with your dad third. That's all I know, but I think I have first Lunch and Music afterwards."

"Shit, you got out of having math? Dude, what did you do besides sleep with mister Copera?"

I rolled my eyes at the insinuation I wasn't smart enough to get the hell out of having a class with that dustbag. "It's called studying. You should do it some time. But I think I got physics with Bell, so I don't think I truly got away from math. Anyways, what do you know about everyone's schedules?"

"I have Copera's math first. So does everyone except Lily, which is probably the best thing ever. God, I hate her." I was going to make a comment but Marcus' hand crashed with my mouth, effectively silencing me... for now. "Eathen and I have Studies with M after that, and he has Psych with you. Dude, just ask them and they'll tell you. But anyways, the only class I have is Applied Physics with George," he sighed. I knew he was going to be really lonely in there without someone. 

Wait. 

Didn't Stephen have that class too? My eyes widened and I gasped and slammed my hands down on the bed dramatically. "Oh em gee. Oh em fuckin' gee. You have that class with Stephen!" Oh lord that was such a weird thought. My brother and one of my best friends... being amicable? Unthinkable.

"Yeah, I know." I gave him an odd expression and he hurriedly blurted, "I gave him a ride home from practice and we got to talking and I casually asked him and that's all I swear! His truck wouldn't start so I was trying to be friendly! He's really not as bad as you make him out to be." My facial expressions kept morphing from curious acceptance to horror. Something seemed to click in my head.

My best friend was actually friends with my brother. No, that's not it. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, and I had the feeling I didn't want to get into it. I thought my head was going to explode, so I took deep breaths and tried to calmly suggest, "Okay then. With that out of the way, you want to go watch some movies now?"

He replied with an affirmative and I pushed the thought of Stephen and Marcus out of my head before opening the door, racing down the stairs and through the house until we were fighting to get through the door to the back room. We agreed to call it a draw and I pulled "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy out. Marcus nodded that it sounded good and I turned the TV and DVD player on, popped the first CD in, and chose a nice comfy seat. It began and I slowly dimmed the lights, darkness filling the room except for where our giant TV's light reached. Marcus sat so close to me that I could feel his body heat. 

I clicked on the "play movie" option and focused so much on the movie that I almost didn't notice the door open. It was Stephen. "Can I join you?


	4. Resignation, Chapter One - "The early bird gets to sweat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did research (yay me) and decided they live in Redding, California, and attend Enterprise High School  
> so i must put a disclaimer for fear of my life: i know nothing about either Redding or EHS except where they are on a map, so. yeah. nothing featured here that strays from the real should be taken as legit anywhere except here.  
> idk if that was necessary or not but i decided to do it anyways  
> moving on  
> this is stephen's first chapter (and in case you didnt notice, "Existence" means harley and "Resignation" means stephen) and it covers what happened from when he woke up to the end of the previous chapter  
> and now i'll be updating every monday and friday until i go crazy, lol  
> i have it all worked out in my head, but yeah i'm not v sure about the schedule but OH WELL  
> oh and btw i'll be adding marcus' chapters next week, too  
> so keep on the lookout

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Come on, Stephen Evans, get you lazy ass up! My hand slammed on top of my alarm, simultaneously hitting snooze and flinging the device off my table and to the ground. I was not particularly a morning person, and I was especially not a four-in-the-morning person. 

Three years of doing this have conditioned me and I needed no further prodding – internally or externally – to get my ass out of bed. Ripping the covers back, I swung my feet off the bed and pressed the balls of my feet to the floor, flinching from the freezing wood. Except, like a big boy, I put the rest of my feet down and stood. I could feel a dull pain in the back of my head and in my knee, but I ignored it. There was no time to waste. 

I didn't need to shower and I didn't have much planned for today so I just grabbed my old pair of black shorts. I've had them for over six years and it showed – they were ripped, the stitches pulled apart, and heavily faded with a number of bleach spots. Since they were from when I was about eleven or twelve, they were also extremely... short. Once on, I couldn't even attempt to get them to stretch to my knees. 

But then again, who cares? They're quick and easy and they get the job done. I stopped thinking on it, bent over and reset my alarm before it went off again, and went downstairs, quiet as to not wake up Mom. That... would not have been pretty. I didn't even bother going back up when I realized I didn't have a shirt.  
It wouldn't even matter in about half an hour. 

After turning into the hallway, I looked through the arch that connected it to the dining room and saw that Dad was awake. Cool. Meant I didn't have to make coffee. I continued my stride and entered the kitchen and veered directly towards the source of that beautiful, beautiful scent of energy and wakefulness. 

I dug through the myriad of cups, searching for my personal mug. It was nowhere to be found. I shrugged and grabbed a green cup and grabbed the handle of the hot pot. I counted the seconds I poured and stopped at three. That was always a good amount for me. I set the pot back down and went to the fridge, taking the milk and pouring just a small bit in. I put the jug where I found it, took a spoon, dropped it in my cup and began to spin it around in the cream-laced black liquid before heading back through the hall and into the dining room. 

Dad didn't even look at me. I could see his eyes speeding over the newspaper. I didn't know what he was reading, what he was looking for in that dreary babble, and I didn't quite care. “Anything interesting?” Of course, I had to ask. It was almost customary, and every now and then there was something actually interesting. 

He took a sip from his coffee, set the paper down, and looked at me before answering, ”Depends on how you define interesting, and if I last remember, nothing in the paper ever quite matched your definition. Truth or no?”

I rolled my eyes and smirked a little. ”Not true. It's just that the drivel they always publish in that,” I nodded at the paper laid neatly in front of us as I sat down in the chair next to his, ”doesn't quite pique anything remotely close to interest. For me.” I hesitated on the last bit because I had to remember that I was only talking about myself and I didn't really knew if Dad actually liked reading the paper. 

He nodded sagely, accepting that answer, before smirking like a man with a trick up his sleeve and flipping to a page with an indent on it. I didn't quite understand the importance of this act until I actually read what it was saying. “Writers wanted,” he commented as I dragged my eyes over the letters. ”I know you're good with words. I know you like to write. Give it a thought, at least?” he casually pleaded. 

It was a nice idea. I did enjoy writing – even if I wrote... specific material that I did not share with anyone except the Internet. However, besides the difference between my writing and column writing, I wasn't too keen on changing jobs, nor making writing my career path. I really liked my job as a lifeguard at our pool, and I was far more interested in technology than literature. 

”I'll ruminate on it,” I mused. It would be good for when the season cooled down, and until then, it wouldn't be murder to have two jobs. Or at least, I hoped not. And it might be good experience. 

”That's m'boy,” he chortled. Wow. He must be excited for it to happen. I didn't laugh with him and had a rather perplexed expression, so when he calmed down he apologized, saying, ”Sorry. I just found it a little bit funny.”

I shrugged, not very affected by Dad's mirth, and began to down my coffee. He did the same, and we sat in relative silence. When I got to the last gulp, I got back up and headed back to the kitchen. I set my cup down on the counter closest to the cupboard which contained the bread before pulling out said wheat product, taking two slices, and putting them in the toaster. I downed my drink, set the empty glass in the sink and filled it with water. I turned around and went into the fridge, pulling out the milk again, and went searching for cereal that didn't taste awful. It wasn't that hard, since it was in the same place the bread had been. I take a sparkly-clean bowl from the dishwasher and pour a nice amount of cereal in it (adding just a tiny bit yeah okay a lot of sugar for added taste). I proceed to drown it in milk before putting it, the bread, and the cereal in their respective places. I wait the five seconds for the toast to pop up predictably and I – also predictably - jump when it does. 

I take my collection of food and strut back to the table like a peacock. Yes, look at me. I am the one with the food and you are not. Envy me. _Love me._  
I sit back down where I had been before, my goodies on the table, and I lovingly proceed to dig in. There were only four discernible sounds: my crunching of sustenance, the birds chirping their morning songs, Dad's newspaper as he flipped through the pages, and Harley's outrageous snoring. 

I made sure to keep check on the time. I could not be late again. I drained my bowl of both warm milk and soggy cereal, my toast long gone, and returned to the kitchen to drop my empty bowl in the sink, the spoon making an annoying clattering sound. I filled it with water, leaving it for Mom to deal with. I never understood why she insists on things like that. I guess she needs something to fill her time? I don't know.  
With breakfast and coffee taken care of, there was nothing of note to distract me from my one and only plan. In the archway between the dining room and the living room, I turned to Dad.  ”Later, old fart,” I teased while pulling on the giant sweatshirt I conveniently left on the couch – and I do mean giant, since it was XXL – and headed out the front door, keys in hand. I took a deep breath of the fresh morning air as I closed the door behind me and walked out to my ugly duckling of a truck. Almost every part had a different colour, ranging from dented silver to chipped red to scratched blue. The only thing I cared about the truck was the inside and whether it ran. The former was impeccable – fuzzy black seat covers and not a speck of dirt or trash to be seen. The latter was getting worse and worse. I honestly feared that this fucker would give up any time now. The right headlight didn't work half the time, there were a plethora of cracks dotting my windshield, the passenger door didn't open from the outside, the driver seat didn't adjust even a centimeter, and I was pretty sure that the back left tire was going flat. I'd be surprised if the motor didn't explode by the end of the year. 

I pushed the key into the lock, twisting it, and prying the door open. It made the same squeal that a kid might after wounding themselves, and I vaguely thought of fixing it one day. Eh. Today was not that day. I checked my watch, which I never even took off when I went to bed, and laughed. I was going to be quite early. A surprise, really, since I was never early. I put the key in the ignition and started my dying baby up, letting it warm up a bit inside before expertly pulling out of our driveway and onto the road. At least my truck wasn't as loud as it could have been as we drove in the gloomy semi-dark down the road.  
I had every inch of this road committed to memory. It seemed like maybe a minute of driving and I had already reached our road sign. I continued past it and down Old Alturas, paying little attention to the scenery – after all, I'd seen it more than a thousand times – until Old Oregon passed. That was my trick to start thinking of where I was going. I followed the wind of the road, passing by Frazier and Abernathy, crossing Rose Tree and Roseland, through the roundabout that signaled Shasta View. I watched the posts to represent Modoc and Lema fly by.

What I cared about seeing was the Montessori Children's House. I loved to reminisce about the days I spent there; the times shared with my cousin Amelia and all the friends I made. I liked thinking of all the people I've met since then. And then I got old enough to go to school, and then Harley came along and also went to Montessori's.  
Just thinking of how things have come along is... comforting. 

As quick as it came, I was a victim of momentum and the sight of that memory-laden house passed by in a flash. I kept my eyes on the lookout for Churn Creek, and when it came, I made the turn and drove on. This was the last leg of my morning journey. I paid no attention to anything other than the road for what would be the long part of my drive. It was early enough that I didn't have to worry about traffic and I had a fairly good control on my vehicular skills, so I felt like I had to make an important call.  
And so I did. Never let it be said that I was the safest driver nor that I would have done that if anyone had been in the truck with me. I picked up my phone, which I discarded into the passenger seat, along with a nameless book and a couple dollars, and expertly pressed the numbers without even a glance at them. I put the ringing device to my ear and let it go once.

Twice.

Thrice, but it only rang half as I heard the line get picked up. ”Hello?” It occurred to me that the number I dialed was a land line. ”Who's calling?” the voice inquired.

”I called the house again, didn't I?” I whispered, slightly disappointed in myself. I heard pealing laughter come out of the other line and I couldn't stop myself from smiling a little in response. ”Are you fucking _laughing_ at me?”

”Yes you did, and yes I am,” the voice warmly remarked. It was obvious to me that they were smiling. I couldn't help myself from feeling a little extra pump in my cardiovascular system 'cause, y'know, _I_ was the cause of that. Even if it was a blunder.

And speaking of that blunder, I still felt bad for it.  ”Sorry. Didn't mean to call the house.”

”No need to feel sorry, honey,” they chided. 

”See you in a bit?” Even after a year of saying things like that, I still felt bashful. 

”Of course. Love you, Stef,” the voice whispered. I didn't get a chance to reply before the line went dead; I hung up after a second and resumed the monotony of the drive. There was still a lot left. 

I sat back and just let the world pass quickly by. I didn't pay attention to the time that also passed by. Up in the distance, I could see the sign for the school and I prepared to pull into the student parking lot. I did it flawlessly and parked in the corner furthest from everything. I let out a small sigh and flipped the key, turning the truck off. And there, I waited. 

And waited.

But I didn't wait too long, as I heard a knock on my window after eight minutes. My smile lit my face and I shoved the stuff in the seat up to my dashboard and used the lever below the handle to manually roll the window down. ”Problem, officer? I winked. 

”Oh, absolutely. There's a raging hot man hogging all the heat in this cold-ass morning. Now, open up and share!”

”Will do,” I purred and reached across the passenger seat, hitting the knob to unlock the door. I kept myself spread out as the door clicked and opened. A soft pair of warm hands lifted my outstretched arm and shoulder up for just a moment while a body, which smelled like fresh sweat, sat in the seat. I was slowly let down on top of strong, muscular legs. I laughed and twisted so that both shoulders were resting against those legs; I used my freed hand to close the door. I looked up at the defined jaw and angular curves of a gorgeous face and gazed lovingly into those beautiful eyes. I shifted so that I rested on my elbows and stretched my neck up to meet those pale strawberry lips with mine.  
I knew better than to get carried away in places like this. But I felt the heat radiating between us and I felt the raw power in that body and I... loved it. There was no way to rephrase it. There was something so inherently attractive about power. It thrilled me in a way that very few things do. In a way that very few things could. One of the things that ringed most synonymous with power, to me, was masculinity. 

That was the thought in my head as I heard a deep, rich bass vibrate my ears with thrumming noises, almost like a car. Or a cat. My chin was slightly tickled by the sheared hairs on that angelic chin and I couldn't help but think how much I loved this. How much I wanted this. 

How much shit we'd get if people knew. That was a very sobering thought and I pulled back from the kiss and repositioned my arms so that I was again lying on those perfect legs. I smiled and murmured, "I love you, Tyler."

Tyler closed his eyes and smiled, the crease under his eyes folding too. I could feel him basking in my words, but I had to cut our rendezvous short. We did have football practice, after all. I parted my lips to pipe up, but I stopped when he said, "We should get to the locker rooms."

I smiled and blushed brightly as I retorted, "And enjoy ourselves before anyone comes?"

"You read my mind," he quipped. He leaned down and I stretched up and we kissed before I sat up and he opened his door. He was up and out in a moment, but I had to grab my keys before I had my door open, stepping out, and closed, walking with the brisk pace Tyler kept. We kept a minimum distance of six inches between us to deter any suspicion, but our silent words gave us away. We were through the entry door and we sped through the halls, playing a very touchy game of tag and laughing. We could have brought the school to life for all the noise we were making. It seemed instantaneous that we entered the locker room. Here, we became far more physical. There was almost nothing that could get us six inches away from each other and we always had to have some skin touching. Back to back, him helping me out of my clothes and vice versa, or our feet playing a game together: something had to touch. And soon enough, we had rid ourselves of our morning clothes. Nude, I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him fully on his lips. When I was done, one could have thought they were bruised for how red they became. I laughed and stepped away from him and up to my locker, pulling my practice clothes out and quickly stepping into them. Why the sudden lack of playfulness?

Because I heard the door open and a couple of other players come barging in, unaware. A small bit of blush was left imprinted on our cheeks but we were back to being only cordial and platonic. We finished dressing at a leisurely rate while the other boys made conversation. When I finished tying my shoes, I stood up with my bag of gear and began to head out the door. I was stopped when it almost collided with my nose and I heard a quick, "Shit, sorry, Stephen!"

It was Cody. I'd had a crush on him since... forever. I was always incapable of figuring out when I realized that, oh, shit, I like this guy! I didn't think I was too affected by him, honestly, but Tyler seemed to instantly pick up on it. Too bad he wasn't a thought on my mind as I hastily replied, "No harm done, so no problem! I mean, no worries." Okay, I might be a little affected. Nobody except me would notice. 

Cody smiled. "No harm, no foul, right?" Okay, he noticed. Time to panic! Not. Just calm down; everything's going to be all right.

Unless he figured it out. In which case, I'm fucked, but I need to play it cool. Keep calm. You got this. You're the man. Inner monologuing always seemed to work for other people, so why not me? "Right. See y'out there, bud."

"Yeah, see ya," he smoothly stated. I could have been putty in his hands and there would be no difference right now. He walked past and I inhaled slightly - half to get a whiff of him and half because I felt like I was going to pass out. Steadied, I continued my way out the door and to the field. I was the first one out there and I could hear chatting some distance behind me as the others came along. Since I was designated the team leader, I stood under a giant post and waited for everyone to line up. Once everyone was there, it was customary for Coach to be late, so we started with warm-ups. Jumping jacks to start. I counted us off and we began our exercises, cycling through them one at a time.

It was over an hour until Coach arrived, and we were in the middle of a routine when he shouted with an authority we all obeyed to get in line. We did and he yelled that we knew what to do; he pointed a finger at us, one by one, and motioned to which side of the field we would individually go to with his other hand and we all hustled over there as soon as we were dismissed. I went to the right side and I watched as Tyler and Cody followed after. We knew the drill: huddle, figure out who's doing what, make plan, break, play. And we did and the whistle began and we played.

My team had the natural advantage - three of our most skilled players were over here, and we were whooping serious ass when we heard Coach blow the whistle to signify halftime. This was a thirty minute break for us to calm down, strategize, and prepare. Since we were already prepared with a solid strategy, my team dispersed and did whatever they felt necessary. Cody drank from his icy blue Gatorade, but Tyler decided to pull me by the arm to the side of the bleachers, away from everyone else. His face was serious and the feel of something very wrong emanated from him. "We need to talk."

Those were never good words, were they? I could feel my heart speed up as worry ran through me. There was a voice in the back of my head tickling me with words I couldn't - and didn't want to - hear. It struck me that I still had to reply. "About what?"

My fear of what was coming next came true. "Us," he spoke with a solemn tone. He sounded like he was repressing anger. What the fuck did he have to be angry about? Did the guys pitch him shit about something?

"Us? Why? What about 'us'?" I could tell my voice was getting louder and I reminded myself to be quiet. I could feel my body temperature rise and I thought I might pass out again.

"I'm... it's over. Between us. I need to find a girlfriend, or something, just as long as we're done." I couldn't blink. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think or talk or move or even feel my heartbeat. I had invested one year, five months, and twenty-some days into this relationship. I risked my reputation, my friends, my entire fucking life for him. I gave him my heart, and he was just throwing it on the ground like something he had grown tired of looking at. I couldn't even cry. I couldn't show one shred of emotion. "If you even think of contacting me, I'll tell everyone," he spat. I just stood there like a statue as he walked away. I almost thought I saw a pained look on his face but I didn't really notice. I just sat down on the closest seat, which was the ground, and just... did nothing. I didn't know if I was breathing or not and I put my hands up to my eyes to rub away any forming tears. I couldn't break down just yet.

"What's wrong?" I flinched as Cody knelt next to me. I didn't even hear him walk up, but I did feel his hand on my shoulder. It was cold from his Gatorade. "Dude, Stephen, are you okay?" I just shook my head and kept quiet. I knew if I made a sound, I'd begin bawling my fucking eyes out. He continued, "Tyler said you weren't feeling good. You wanna sit out the rest of practice or something? I'm sure we could convince Coach --"

"No. Just... m'head," I mumbled quietly, interrupting him. Something about what he said struck me, but I couldn't feel nor think through either the pain in my head or the constriction in my chest. I felt like screaming.

I couldn't see his face 'cause my hands were still covering my eyes, but I felt him tug on me to get up. "Come on, then. If it's just your head, then no need to laze around behind the bleachers. You'll be okay. Okay?" he pressed and I nodded as I stood up, guided by his arms. "Don't just nod at me. Say, 'Okay, Cody, bestest bestfriend in the entire world, I'll be okay and we can continue kicking fucking ass!'" I smiled a little, the edges of my lips turning up, but I couldn't feel my eyes crinkle. I squeezed my eyes shut and use my hands to wipe the dust of my ass.

"Yes, okay. I'll be okay," I muttered. It felt like a lie. After a second, I went from squeezing to squinting with my eyes and looked at Cody. He had one eyebrow lifted high and was waiting for me to repeat his sentence. "I promise, I'll be okay." I held up a pinky and wiggled it at him.

He smiled, rolled his eyes, and took my pinky with his and squeezed tight with it before using his other hand to hold the back of the hand I was using for this promise. "Whatever. It's good enough," he muttered with a sigh. I mimicked his hand's actions before we let go and began walking back. Halftime was almost over and we needed to huddle. I couldn't stop rubbing my eyes, though; my head did actually hurt a lot. 

The whistle rang and we went into our huddle. It was made known that my head was attempting to murder me and that we needed to compensate for that, and we broke and got in place. The rest of the game went by, mostly like a blur, but also spiked with pain - internally from what I was not yet ready to deal with, and externally from being hit a good number of times. Our side won by only a couple points, as the large gain we had before halftime didn't get much bigger. Thankfully, though, we did have two of the three best players working properly. After the game, I sat down on the field and let myself recover from the pounding in my head. A couple of the guys walking by asked if I was going to be alright and I just nodded. Cody stood next to me the entire time until he got impatient and yanked me up, muttering something about how he's not about to babysit me until I felt better. He pushed me the entire way to the locker room and I looked around discreetly; almost all of the guys had been changed and gone home already, including Tyler. It was just me, Cody, and someone on the other side of the room.

I got changed quickly and quietly, not bothering to take a shower first. I got all my stuff together in my bag, since I did want to wash my practice clothes, and waved to Cody, "Later, dude. I'm going to head home." I didn't wait for his reply to be out the door and through the halls and back out to the parking lot. I practically ran to my truck, ripping the door open, and sitting down. In there, I could let go. And suddenly, the tears came. I made a low guttural sound and let the tears flow down my face and chin and throat and disappear under my big hoodie. I sat there for long enough that both Cody and the other dude already left. I needed to get home. Right this fucking instant. I put the key into the ignition and flipped.

Nothing. Just the sound of my starter, but no hum of life. I tried four more times, but they ended the same. I screamed, "FUCK!" and got out and punched the door and kicked the tire. I kept screaming the same word for five minutes before I noticed someone standing by the door of the school, watching me as I slowly slip out of control. I recognized that face. It was one of Harley's friends. The son of the psych teacher. I knew he was pretty nice and I'd seen him plenty of times. But I was not in the right state of mind to be anything other than a raging mess. "WHAT _THE FUCK_ DO YOU WANT?" I roared at him. Even from this distance, I saw him cower a little bit. After all, I was rather bulky and tall. Quite intimidating. I didn't get an immediate response so I turned my body to face him and began walking in his direction, my feet practically pounding on the ground. I had a very pissed off grimace. When I got right in front of him, I was centimeters away from his face.  "Well?"

"You need a ride?" he casually offered. His nonchalance practically knocked me on my ass and all semblance of anger vanished. I reeled back just a step and he added, "I don't think your truck's going to start, and I'm heading to your house anyways, so do you?" His eyes were earnest and he had a small smile. 

I decided to take the chance. "Uh. Sure. Just let me get some stuff," I told him before running back to collect my book, money, phone, and keys. Really, it was just a handful of stuff. I jogged back to Marcus and quietly said, "After you." I followed him like a lost puppy as we walked to the other side of the parking lot to his beaten and blue Toyota. He unlocked and opened his door, getting inside and reaching over to unlock mine. I opened it and he sat up and I sat down and I felt... out of place. I remembered that I had my bag on my back and asked, "Can I put my bag in the back?"

"I was actually expecting you to, so yeah, sure," he answered. I nodded and shoved my stinky bag through the opening between our seats.

"Sorry 'bout the stink. I planned on showering at home," I stated. He laughed as if it was nothing and started the car. His radio didn't work so it was extremely quiet for the first ten minutes. 

"So. You and Tyler, huh?" he began. I turned to look at him a bit too quickly, my eyes wide and mouth open. I must have looked like death because he quickly added, "I was sitting on the bleachers and I heard you guys talking and... yeah. Sorry. I never really liked him - he's an ass." I couldn't help but laugh a little at that.

"Yeah. I guess he is," I mumbled. There was something about Marcus that was comforting in this moment. I liked it. 

"So, that little bit of drama excluded, how have you been? Excited for school?" he inquired as if we were ancient friends reconnecting for the first time. 

I smirked a little. "Well, other than today, been good. Pretty much stuck to practice and hanging with Tyler." I saw Marcus roll his eyes at my description of my summer actions. I knew what was going through his head. "Other than that, haven't done much. Seen Cody every now and then, but that's it. As for school, I'm not compelled to care."

Marcus laughed. "Sage words, those are. I don't think anyone is compelled to care besides Harley and Eathen."

"Amen to that!" I stated as I lifted my right hand as if I was holding a drink to toast with.

"So, you know your classes?" he questioned innocently.

I had to think on that a little. "I know I have fourth-year AP English, no math since I finished them last year, and I have Applied Physics. Not sure about anything else, 'cept lunch is first. You?"

"Yes, I know my classes. I also know everyone else's, except Harley's because he never bothers telling anyone. But I have math with Copera first, studies with M second, government third. We have first lunch and Applied Physics together, but I have English three last. All in all, not _too_ exciting," he quipped and winked. 

I laughed and conversation descended into a relaxed silence the rest of the ride. He pulled up into our driveway and looked at me for a second before blurting, "I know you and Harley don't get along all that well, but you're welcome to join us for movies, and one of these days, we need to hang out and gossip like schoolgirls."

I smirked, taking my bag from the backseat and getting out of the car. I leaned back in and stared him dead in the eye as I said, "I'll think about it. If you don't mind me, I'm going to go get wet and get rid of this nasty stench of sweat. See you in a bit." I closed the door and walked up to the front door, throwing it open and whispering to myself, "Honey, I'm home." I strode in and went immediately upstairs and up to my room. I set my bag down in front of my door before walking through the open space. I homed in on my dresser, opening only two drawers. I sifted through the organized mess and plucked a black shirt with a whole bunch of skulls. I tucked it under my arm and picked up a similar pair of boxers, closing the drawers and heading back downstairs and turning the corner to head to the bathroom. The door was already closed and I knew Harley was in there. Great. 

I twist the doorknob and thrust it open and walk right in, the steam and humidity in the room wafting over me. "Yes, you _are_ welcome to barge into the bathroom _while it is occupied_." His voice grates on my sore nerves.

"Get out," I barked at him. 

"You're the one who barged in here. Shouldn't _I_ be saying that?" God, he was so annoying. Couldn't he just do this one thing? I could understand if he wasn't dressed yet, but he had nothing left to do in here so get the fuck out!

"No, now get out," I tried a little nicer. 

"No. Ask nicely," he retorted with a scrunched-up facial expression. Apparently nice didn't work, and I wasn't going to test it twice. 

"Fine. Get _the fuck_ out," I snapped. I was out of patience and if he didn't get out I was going to fucking toss him out! I realized I was getting wound up again, so I relented.  "Please."

Harley seemed surprised and he muttered, "Whatever," before shoving me to the side and walking out. I sighed and closed the door without turning around. I leaned back against it and fell to the floor inch by inch. Now wasn't the time to feel bad. Tyler was just some fucking asshole that I made the mistake of letting in. It was my fault for letting this happen, and there was no time to feel sorry for myself for one goddamn minute. A few seconds would be okay, though. Except I forgot to tell Harley that Marcus was here. Shit! I stood back up and opened the door. As Harley looked back at me, I quickly stated, "By the way, Marcus is out front." I almost called him an insufferable prick but I closed the door and quickly stripped my clothes off me. I dropped them in the laundry basket and stepped into the shower, closing the door and starting it up. The hot water poured over me damn near instantly and I got right to work with washing my hair and scrubbing all traces of dirt and sweat and dead skin off my body. I didn't bother to count the minutes, but it couldn't have been that many before I was done and had the shower off. 

I opened the door and stepped out, grabbing my towel and doing what it was made for. I didn't even have to do much other than shake my head and it was basically dry, so I slipped my shirt over my head and stepped into my underwear. As ready as I was going to get, I opened the door and turned the light off before walking to the back room. I could hear sounds already, but it didn't sound like the movie started, so I opened the door and peeked my head in. Marcus' eyes lit up when he saw me and Harley didn't even seem to notice. "Can I join you?"


	5. Existence, Chapter Three - "Awkward is an understatement"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again  
> it feels like a week ago that i last did this  
> anyways  
> enjoy

I looked up from the screen, mouth agape and eyes wide. Something in my head was not comprehending what just happened. Did... my brother, of all people, just ask to join Marcus and I? Someone explain. Who slipped me the nightmare-inducing drugs? This is not happening! No! Why would he even want to?!  
”Why?” I practically screamed. My voice was so loud and sudden that I flinched from it, and I swear I saw Marcus do the same. Stephen just looked at me, a blank expression on his face. I could feel the horrified look on my face and I was going to say more but Marcus spoke up before I could make a sentence. 

”Sure, feel free, Stephen.” My head spun towards Marcus in the span of one instant and my face was the definition of shocked. The world and people around me had obviously been replaced by aliens intent on making my head split open! It was madness! 

My eyes flitted back and forth between them as Stephen said, ”Thanks, Marcus,” and walked through the door. His large feet made small pat sounds on the wooden floor; I leaned back into my seat, jutting my legs out and pouting a little. My brother being in the room put me on edge, but Marcus seemed as at ease as he normally was. How could he be so relaxed? This is the dude that's been tormenting me for years and has made a point of keeping our lives separate! And Marcus is going to be friends with him? 

”What _ever_ ,” I muttered bitterly to myself. Neither of them bothered to even glance at me. Instead, Stephen sat on the opposite side of the L-shaped couch from me and put his feet up on that extended part. I started regretting not taking that side for myself. 

”So, what're you guys watching?” my brother inquired. I scoffed inside my head. He couldn't tell what movie this was? Ugh, I was _not_ going to survive this. My only salvation was ignore him and focus on the giant TV in front of me. That wouldn't be _too_ hard. Turns out, I would be right. I stopped listening to them as they whispered and used my amazing concentration to be absorbed into both the movie and the couch. 

I actually forgot about them and became one with the movie. Despite how many times I had seen it previous, I remained excited and entranced like a little kid. I didn't even notice what Marcus and Stephen were doing, and I didn't even think of whether Mom was watching us or not. I didn't move or talk or even breathe until the ending credits showed up and I stood up. I stretched a little – who wouldn't after sitting still after almost three hours? - and maneuvered my way around furniture and... drinks? And food? When did that get there?  ”When did that get there?”  
I am ever so eloquent. 

Stephen smiled – actually smiled! At me! What the hell did I miss? - and answered my query with a statement I believed to be false. ”Dude, we went to the store like two hours ago to get snacks.”

My heart did a little decrescendo when it occurred to me that I didn't get anything. ”Oh,” I muttered. I couldn't tell if I sounded dejected or not but I must have 'cause Marcus did a little laugh and tossed a bag at me. It felt fairly heavy, but that might have been because it hit my in the chest before I could grab it. 

”Don't look like that, we got you stuff, too. Well, Stephen did, but it was a joint operation, really,” he commented offhandedly. I raised my eyebrows for an incredulous expression before setting the bag down and walking to the DVD player, popping out the disk and slipping it back in its cover. I glanced around for the second one before Marcus threw that to me, too, and I shimmied it out of its protective coat and clicked it into the DVD player. I closed the tray and sat back down. I was about to open my bag of goodies when I heard a fervent pounding on the door leading to the backyard. 

Mom. 

”Lunchtime, my precious baby-boos!” she practically screamed as soon as she opened the door. Her fiery red hair cascaded around her round face in a puff of springy curls. The Sun lit the back of her hair as if she was surrounded by yellow-golden fire. Her smile was wide and a bright, almost blinding, white. ”Follow me, my dearies!” she exclaimed as she strut through the room and to the door leading inside. She went through and none of us budged until she stuck her head back through and said, ”Did I or did I not tell you to follow me?” with a demanding look. 

No one could withstand that look. All three of us crumbled like rubble under the foot of a giant. Mom vanished behind the door again, but this time we followed. Stephen lead the way, Marcus an inch behind him, but I was at least two feet behind them. There was something about them that kept striking me as incredibly... odd. I still couldn't put my finger on it. I might just be going insane, though. 

The three of us obeyed Mom's orders and trailed her into the kitchen, where we had sandwiches waiting for us on plates. There were literally tiny little cardboard pieces bent in half with our names written on them in a fancy cursive. ”Thanks, momma!” Marcus blurted out before giving her a quick hug. 

”Oh, it was nothing, sweetheart,” she said before patting him on the back and sending him off to the back room. ”Don't be missing your movie just for my sake.”

”Okay, won't do!” I promised as I took my plate and ran off, cackling. Mom hit me lightly on the shoulder with the back of her hand. 

”Ugh! Brat!” she laughed before kissing Stephen on his forehead, handing him his plate, and letting him casually walk back instead of racing with Marcus and I. At least, that's what I'm assuming, since it took him half a minute to get back to the room. When he walked back in, I realized that he wasn't wearing pants. Not only had I been in the presence of my brother for three hours now – and soon to be six after the movie, since I already hit “play” – but he didn't even have pants on. I would have asked him about it, but I had food in front of my face and I was far more interested in that. 

I was not the only one with that thought because all three of us lifted the paper towels off our respective sandwiches. I got the standard peanut butter and jelly – which I far preferred, honestly – while Marcus got a grilled ham and cheese. I didn't even know he liked those, but he must have because of the way his face lit up at the sight. I didn't bother looking at Stephen's; I already knew he got a roast beef. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see practically a whole head of lettuce on it, and I couldn't help but think to myself that he was eating rabbit food. That being said, I myself loved lettuce, too.   
My level of care decreased dramatically the more I paid attention to the movie, and I paid it all my attention – save for that which was used to devour my sandwich. But that only took a couple minutes, and then I was fully invested into the movie again and remained so until those end credits played once again. 

By now, it was a quarter past three, and I was in need of activity. I stood and stretched again and laughed as Marcus and Stephen did the same. ”You guys want to do something before we wrap up this marathon?” I asked with a smile on my face. It occurred to me that I had simply accepted Stephen's presence and didn't even consider it weird that we were a group. 

”You still interested in doing basketball this winter?” Stephen questioned in return. I didn't even have to think about my answer, and I sure as hell didn't stop myself from getting excited from the implications of his question. 

”Yeah, that's the plan so far,” I tried to say casually. I don't think it worked, but that was the answer my brother was looking for. And Marcus too. 

”Then let's get our asses out there and play some b-ball!” he said before practically running outside, dragging Stephen behind him. I was again struck by the oddest feeling ever, but I ignored it and stepped outside to join them. I picked up the ball from where I last put it and the three of us crouched in a triangle in front of the hoop, which was installed on the storage room. 

It was understood that both of them were on a team against me, and honestly, I liked the challenge. I moved forward as if to run between them but stopped once they both got in the way. I smirked and feinted right before just jumping over Marcus and launching the ball. While I wasn't all that tactical, I did have a pretty good jump.   
The ball sailed right through the hoop and I hollered, ”YEAH! That's how you do it!” I began laughing when they rolled their eyes. We switched places, Stephen having the ball, but I kept my eyes on Marcus. I was far more used to playing against my brother from our earlier years, but I was not accustomed to Marcus' style. 

Stephen moved forwards and I went to go slap the ball from his hands but he passed it just in time. Marcus caught it and stepped forward, but I had lunged in front of him. He raised the ball just and began to throw it just as I did earlier but I instinctively swung my arm. It turns out that my instinct was perfect as the ball went sailing into the rest of the backyard. Marcus and I started laughing, but Stephen just stood there with a... surprised face? What?  
”Looking for this?” I turned my head to find the source of that voice. The beautiful, beautiful source of that beautiful, beautiful voice. Cody. My lips turned into a smile faster than I could comprehend. 


	6. Resignation, Chapter Two - "Adventures are anywhere and everywhere, even a store"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh  
> i decided to add marcus' chapter next week  
> so look forward to that  
> and enjoy reading this one <3

There are things I never thought I'd do in the past four years. Number one is get a boyfriend. I used to think about how I was probably the only faggot I'd ever know and I was doomed to be alone. My friends back then always made a point of bringing up how they'd have girlfriends and real jobs by the time they graduated. I was one of those pretty damn vocal guys, and in three years, I still have not had a girlfriend. We have about thirty-four weeks until graduation, and I can almost guarantee none of us had girlfriends.  
Except Cody. Him and Delilah have been together since the summer of freshman year. It was at a party here, in my very own house, when Cody was denying his attractive qualities. People were disagreeing and claiming he was just too modest and he needed to go out and score. If I hadn't known him better, I would have agreed, and as much as I didn't want him to have a girlfriend – call it jealousy, if you must – I was the person who pushed him the hardest. I was the one who sweet-talked him into talking to my rambunctious cousin, just as I sweet-talked her into attending that night. They were friends and they seemed to click rather well. To my own detriment, I pushed it as if I were her. And maybe I did wish I were her. 

What I didn't consider was that Amelia would bring her bestest friend in the whole universe of bestest friends, and I sure as hell didn't stop to think that Cody and Delilah would have the sparks to light a fire that would last forever.  
It wasn't according to my plan, but my plans suck anyways. 

What was even less part of my plan was that I'd be thinking of this while attempting to hang out with my insufferable brother and his friend. Well, after today, I guess I can refer to Marcus as my friend, too. 

”WHY?” Harley practically screamed. I expected it, honestly, but I'd still hoped that he wouldn't have problems. Marcus, however, did not expect his sudden outburst. I watched as my new friend jumped at Harley's uproar and stared at him as if he were going to slap him. I think it's fair to say he would have deserved it. 

Instead of getting physical, Marcus turned to me and said, Sure! Feel free, _Stephen_.” I could feel the emphasis dripping from my name. I liked it. It almost felt like a backhanded stab at Harley for his prick-ness. Plus, Harley's horrified face spun from me to Marcus. 

”Thanks, _Marcus_ ” I said whilst walking through the door (and closing it, of course – what kind of rude person wouldn't?). I could feel Harley just looking at Marcus and then me and back. I almost laughed as I strode to the open side of the couch, which just happened to be the comfiest side. I sat my ass down with a huff and looked at Marcus. He was smiling, and I would have smiled too if I weren't already. I was almost surprised. _Almost._ On Marcus' left was Harley and I noticed that he was really trying hard to become one with the couch. Except his legs. They were stuck out into the open space as if he were trying to trip someone or reach the TV with his feet.  
He was fucking _pouting._ A full-blown hissy-fit. This is why we don't get along. I just. I can't. Oh my fucking Christ. How was I supposed to get along with a pissy, stubborn _child?_ Ugh. 

I put up my legs on the elongated couch cushion and looked at the screen for a second. To satisfy my asshole-ish needs, I asked,  ”So... what're you guys watching?” I could feel Harley's anger and I kinda wanted to laugh. Or punch him. Whichever came more naturally, I suppose. 

”Well, the _three_ of us are watching Lord of the Rings. In fact, we just started and you're just in time. Let the Fellowship of the Ring begin, right, Harley?” Marcus helpfully supplied. The two of us only heard Harley puff furiously, and Marcus made a face as if to say, “WOW, I wonder what's stuck up his ass,” and I quietly laughed to myself. Didn't want to piss off the runt to the point he wanted to fight. After all, I did have some humanity – didn't want to embarrass him in front of our mutual friend. 

I looked around the room quickly and not discreetly. All I saw were lamps and seats and speakers. Where were the snacks? You can _not_ have a movie marathon without snacks! It was unthinkable.  ”Dude, you guys _seriously_ didn't bring snacks? What kind of movie marathon is this?” I whispered incredulously, astonished that there wasn't even popcorn. How can you not have popcorn and watch a movie?

”A highly pleasureless one without snacks! Such a travesty!” Marcus admitted with a wide grin on his face. He was so expressive – it's like every syllable had a visage and it wanted to be seen. And that's not mentioning the new dimensions of meaning when his hands were involved, whipping through the air. His cheer was infectious and I found myself using my hands, too. Given, I already did, but there was something new about it this time. I didn't know and I probably couldn't explain it even if I tried. 

”Well, obviously. I say we go and get some,” I winked and nudged him in the side with my elbow. ”The movie's only just begun and we won't be missing any action,” I added when Marcus lifted an eyebrow. 

”Hm. Okay, let's do it. Plus, I'm the only one who can drive and isn't completely absorbed by the movie,” he quipped. I wanted to protest because I could drive, just not my truck. I decided against it and just made a sound commonly meant to be a sarcastic yes. I stood up and looked expectantly at my driver. However, I realized that he was eye-level with my scantily-clad buttocks. I had neglected to put anything on other than underwear and a shirt. Not socks, not shorts, not even deodorant. (Honestly, on that last object, I actually liked my fresh-out-of-the-shower smell. Not sure why.)  
And because of that, I was currently being ogled. 

”Enjoying the view?” I remarked. It was only slightly rhetorical. I was actually quite proud of my ass – years of bodybuilding have been used to sculpt a perfect booty, and I was of the opinion that I had such a booty. I resisted the urge to shake my perfect booty and decided to instead let Marcus get up without making more fun of him. It was difficult, but we both eased our way out of the room without disturbing Harley. ”Hold on, I have to get my wallet first. Oh, and my shorts,” I said after we closed the door. I jogged into the bathroom and went right to the shorts I wore earlier. I put them on and checked for my wallet. It was not in there. There were a couple dollars, but that would not be enough.  
I exited the bathroom and ran up the stairs and to my room, Marcus following. I half-expected him to just wait in the car, but I felt... excited? I don't know. I just knew that he followed me through the door and into my room and he watched me as I dug through pants until I found my wallet. I turned with it in hand and saw him looking at the framed pictures standing proudly on my dresser. In truth, I forgot they were there.  
They were from a time long past. 

”Wow. You guys used to be really close, huh?” he remarked. ”There are, like, a hundred pictures of just you two. What happened?” In truth, I dreaded that question. 

But I still answered. ”Shit happened, I guess. Come on, leggo – we're missing movie and the bountiful snacking opportunities,” I answered before disappearing past the door. Marcus took a second, by which I was already halfway down the stairs. It's not that I was running, I was just walking with vigor. To keep him by my side, I waited at the front door, holding it until he walked through. I closed it and followed him back into his car. We got in, he started it, and the next thing I know, we're on our way to the store.  
To buy snacks. For all _three_ of us. 

It didn't hit me until then that we had to get Harley stuff, too. I wonder if Marcus planned that? How... cunning. If I got Marcus stuff, it'd be payment for the ride, but if I got Harley stuff, it might put him in a perky mood. Or at least a mood that was not pissy. 

I didn't pay attention to the surroundings. I just sat and watched the trees and plants and grass as they vanished, bit by bit, until there were more buildings than plants and I watched those, too, disappear. I saw the convenience store come into view, and as we drove up to the curb, my seatbelt was off and my door was open in a flash. I leaned back in, asking,  ”You coming in, too?”

”Well, duh. It's boring out here!” he said before he was out of the car, too. We closed our doors and I waited for him to get on this side before walking through the door and ringing that bell. 

”Get whatever you want,” I whispered to him before splitting up. He went directly into the candy aisle while I went to the drinks. I saw Mountain Dew and I didn't need to see anything else. I grabbed a normal one for myself, a lover of their taste, and grabbed a Code Red for Harley. While I was not sure what Marcus liked for beverages, I was willing to get him one anyways. If he wanted it, good. If not, then I'd just casually take that. Perfect plan! I reached in and grabbed him a High Voltage.  
Three of the best flavours in the world. This convenience store was obviously heaven. I saw the White Out flavour and I thought of Cody. I was probably going to see him soon considering I had a sixth sense to when he was worried about me and it was going off like an alarm. I grabbed his favourite – the aforementioned White Out – and left the aisle. I set the four drinks on the counter, saying hi to the guy there. I knew him from football practice – he was James. Everyone knew him for two reasons: he was an excellent player of basketball (not so much football) and he was the brother to the wicked bitch of our school. 

Something hit me as I went off to find more food. Harley wanted to play basketball, right? I should probably convince James to come over and help Harley. Eventually. Maybe. Depends if Harley has good behaviour. I saw Marcus and walked to him, taking his candy collection. It comprised mostly of Skittles. In fact, it was all Skittles. Every different package they had. I laughed a little, partly because I found it odd that he would choose them and partly because I would've gotten the same. I grabbed some Starburst and Jolly Ranchers. No one could resist the power of our candy.  
But I still felt like we could get more. It might be the latent shopaholic in me that made me collect pies – one for each of us (and Cody). I was absolutely certain that there was popcorn at home, so I figured that'd be all. I walked up to James and set the last of our items down. Marcus came back with a bag of Funyuns.  
Hell yes.  
Hell. Fucking. Yes. 

Marcus stood and had small talk with James – I didn't know they were friends? - while I just watched the register add and add and add to the total. I didn't even flinch at the number when I pulled the money out of my crying wallet. While I had a heart of stone in this regard, my wallet did not – there was no excuse to letting its babies be spent so willy-nilly like that. Oh well. 

I handed James the money and he handed me change and gently put everything in bags. I handed one to Marcus and I carried the other two. ”Later,” I stated before heading back to the car. 

I heard Marcus behind me go, ”See y'later!” before I opened the car door and sat my ass down with my goodies, putting them in between my legs on the floor. 

”Be safe! Lilith got in a wreck the other day and I don't want to hear that you guys didn't survive when she did!” I heard him joke. I smirked and closed the door just as Marcus opened his before he handed me his bag. I set it with the others and once again we were on the road. 

I turned to Marcus and asked, ”So, how do you know him? It didn't feel right to sit in silence with that question in my head. 

”Oh, I've known him for years. We used to be neighbours before his parents decided to move Lilith and him out into the country area. I think they live on the other side of town on Brickwood? Not sure,” he replied. I just nodded and accepted his answer. I let the silence settle as we drove back to the house. 

When we got back, I grabbed all our bags of sweets, opened my door, and walked up to the door of the house before Marcus even got out. His seatbelt was stuck and I couldn't help but laugh. I've been doing an awful lot of that recently. Huh. The thought vanished as Marcus opened the house door and let me inside. I attempted a cute little curtsy but I had stuff that I didn't want to drop. Marcus laughed at me and I rolled my eyes. Side by side, we went to the back room, where I set the bags down next to the extended cushion. Although we were quiet, I expected Harley to pitch shit. Or at least react in any way, but he didn't. It's like he wasn't even there. "Do you think he even noticed?"

"Unlikely. He is in, like, love with this movie. I don't think there's anything except turning it off that's going to make him respond," he whispered. "Almost don't want to interrupt his trance."

"Agreed. Let's just let him do his thing while we make ourselves comfy," I murmured in response. I dug my thumb into the waist of the shorts and pushed them down, stepping out and exclaiming in a hushed tone, "Ah, much better. Very comfy." I winked for added emphasis before sitting in my seat, the long cushion elevating my feet. Marcus sat extremely close to me - so close, in fact, that I could feel his heat on my legs - and also put his feet up on my cushion. It was remarkable to see the difference in our body sizes: first, his feet were puny compared to mine, practically half the size; and second, his legs were shorter than mine. His feet could only extend to within a couple inches of my ankle. As a dude who was six feet and about two inches tall, it might seem obvious to anyone who compared our sizes, but I didn't do that until now. 

I heard Marcus ruffle through his bag and pull out his drink - which considering how he lit up, I must have chosen correctly - and a bag of Starburst. He opened both of them and started the sugary feast. I joined in, and we watched as the rest of the movie played out. I had seen it a hundred times, so I didn't really pay attention. Marcus and I whispered commentary to each other. Although, I do have to admit that I stopped mid-sentence when the Balrog came out. It reminded me of something in my dreams from a while ago. Other than that part, we continued to whisper until Harley came to. We were talking about what it would be like to be part of that story had it been real when we heard rustling and looked. "Oh, shit, the beast is waking up!" Marcus whispered very quietly in my ear. I could feel his breath tickle my hair.

Marcus and I just kept staring at him as he stretched and started walking. My guess was that he wanted to use the bathroom before starting the next movie, but he stopped and looked around. Confusion warped his face and he inquired, "When did that get there?"

I wanted to laugh a little bit. He actually didn't notice! Wow! And I thought some people were dull in the head. "Dude, we went to the store like two hours ago!" I watched as confusion melted to slight disappointment. He didn't think he got anything because he didn't go along. I guess it was a good idea to get him stuff, then, and it must have been a good thing Marcus and I knew what he liked. One point for teamwork. 

"Oh," he muttered. 

"Don't look like that! We got you stuff, too," Marcus commented. I was about to grab his bag for him but Marcus beat me to it and had already tossed it before he continued speaking. "Well, Stephen did, but it was a joint operation, really." I almost looked up at Harley to see his expression - would it be surprise? horror? fond attachment like a lost puppy found by a new family? - but I instead stared at the back of Marcus' head. 

I saw Harley set his bag down and head to the DVD player, switching to the second movie. When it was in, he sat back down and began to open his bag. Suddenly, a wild Mom appeared! "Lunchtime, my precious baby-boos!" Something told me she was watching from the window and just waiting for this very moment to roar like a motherly lion. As I looked back at her and her vibrant red frizzy ball of hair, she yelled, "Follow me, my dearies!" I could tell she was excited having Marcus in the house. I stared after her as she strut through the room and through the door. Sometimes, I questioned from whom did I inherit sanity? Before I could begin to answer my own rhetorical question, Mom peeked back through the door. "Did I or did I _not_ tell you to follow me?"

We all knew to be scared of Mom. She had ways. And eyes in the back of her head, I swear. I don't know how they'd see through her hair, but they were there. I jumped up from my seat and began the short journey to the kitchen, Marcus inches away from me. I couldn't see Harley but I knew that he obeyed because I could hear his footsteps. When we got into the kitchen, we had plates of food. Delectable lunchtime sandwiches. Marcus grabbed his plate, which had a name tag that was probably older than I am, and gave Mom a quick hug. "Thanks, momma!" I found it a little endearing to watch two short people hug; after all, Mom was about five feet six and Marcus was five feet shorter-than-six. 

"Oh, it was nothing, sweetheart. Don't be missing your movie just for my sake," she said as she scooted Marcus forwards. 

Harley took his plate immediately after Marcus was out of the way. "Okay, won't do!" Mom hit him with the back of her hand but he was already rushing back to the room. What an asshole. I used to tell him to never take Mom for granted, but I don't think he'll ever listen. 

"Ugh, brat!" she said before she turned her attention towards me. She kissed my forehead, but I rolled my eyes and sighed before giving mom a big hug from her big baby boy.

"Thank you, Mom," I said warmly. 

"Oh, honey, no need for thanks. Besides, how's Tyler?" she winked. I could have sworn there was a hint that she knew. The woman has devils for informants, I fucking swear. That party where Cody and Delilah got together? I thought Mom didn't know about it, but she did, and even though I had the house exactly as it was when they left, she knew. Either I have a traitor amongst my ranks or the woman was God. As likely as the former was, the latter was closer to reality.  
Harley and I really needed to thank her more.

I smiled and took my plate with a succulent roast beef sandwich drowning in lettuce and onions. I casually walked back to the room and sat in my seat; Marcus and I resumed our position of being insanely close to touching. All three of us dug into our food like ravenous beasts as the movie played. Marcus and I made more quips as Harley became catatonic, his consciousness absorbed by the TV. It was very calm and relaxed and I enjoyed it.  
Wow. I actually enjoyed being in Harley's company - even if I wasn't paying much more than a sliver of attention to him. This hasn't happened since middle school. 

Nothing really happened for three hours. We just let the movie run its course, and once those credits started playing, all I wanted to do was stretch and do something. I can't handle sitting for that long. I noticed Harley stand and stretch and I was standing one second later, doing the exact same. Even Marcus did it. It was as if our bodies were infected with the most contagious thing of all:  
yawning.

I heard a little chuckle noise and turned my attention towards the other end of the couch. "You guys want to do something before we wrap this marathon up?" Harley questioned. I actually thought about it. 

Now was my time to put in motion a plan I literally just thought up. "You still interested in doing basketball this winter?"

"Yeah, that's the plan so far." That was the answer I wanted to hear. I smiled devilishly as I thought of how to make my plan work. 

"Then let's get our asses out there and play some b-ball!" Marcus piped up suddenly. I couldn't have agreed more, mostly because Marcus had ran outside, dragging me by the wrist with him. There was a little jolt of excitement and electricity when he touched me. We were out in front of the storage shed in seconds, Harley walking with the ball in-hand. Marcus and I were apparently on a team as we stood in between my brother and our old hoop.  
I didn't pay attention to the game - I swore I heard a familiar noise outfront, but I was caught off guard when Harley moved and I instinctively moved to get in his way. I realized this was a big mistake when my attention zoomed in on the game, as Harley just feinted to the side I was not on and jumped, launching the ball with perfect aim. 

Gotta admit, the kid has a good arm. "YEAH! THAT'S HOW YOU DO IT!" He could learn to shut up, though. 

We switched places, me holding the ball, and we stood our places, Harley his. I was ready this time. I thought of what I knew he was bad at, but he had obviously grown in skill so I decided to find out what he was bad out. Much better objective than finding out I was wrong and falling on my face. I made a feint move forwards. As Harley's hand went to dis-ball me, I passed it to Marcus. I stood straight up and let them duke it out. Marcus went to launch the ball, mimicking Harley just not even half a minute ago, but Harley's arm was instantaneous and pushed the ball off-course and sailing a different path. I watched it descend and descend and bounce and get caught by a most-familiar face. 

I don't know what expression I had, really. I guess I was going to see him a lot sooner than I planned. "Looking for this?" His voice was beautiful and I rolled my eyes. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Marcus and Harley both look to see Cody standing with the ball. "Looks to me as if you guys need a fourth player."


	7. Existence, Chapter Four - "I don't always like surprises, but when I do, I drink Mountain Dew."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy labor day i hope nothing bad happened  
> if not, then enjoy the chapter  
> if so, then i'm sorry & enjoy the chapter

I remember this one time that Cody spent the night at the house. It was his fifteenth birthday and his dad had to work late at the hospital so Mom decided that it was unacceptable for him to do nothing on his big day, so we picked him up from his house the night before (since it was a Saturday) and we went out for ice cream. I still remember the ice cream he got - raspberry. Stephen had mint chocolate chip and I got good ol'strawberry, then we went to bed once we got back to the house. If "went to bed" means that we stayed up far into the morning and ended up passing out downstairs. We got up pretty late because of that.  
We were woken up at nine in the morning sharp; Mom made us breakfast - and let me be clear and say that she went all-out; pancakes, waffles, toast, whipped cream, hot chocolate, anything we wanted. We went to the zoo afterwards, which Cody had wanted to do for a year. Never let it be said that Mom doesn't know how to treat her kids. After the zoo, we had a picnic at a park and played games for a couple hours. With us tired out, we went back to the house. We watched Cody's prime movie choice - "Rocky Horror Picture Show" - before having dinner, which was Mom's famous burritos. Naturally, everyone had a good meal. 

Cody's dad was able to get long break, which gave him enough time to come over and take the food Mom wrapped for him and watch as Cody opened his gifts (especially the baby ferret his dad got him) before leaving. After all, as the best doctor in pretty much the entire state, he didn't get much time to himself. 

It felt very fitting to think of this as I stared giddily at Cody. Given it was three years past that, he still had a very youthful vigor to him. "Looks to me as if you guys need a fourth player." His voice was smooth like a freshly shaved face. 

My voice was not. "Uh, yeah, I guess you could say that you're most definitely welcome to join the game." While I was not smooth, I made sure to smile as I added, "I could always use the extra talent on my team." I could feel Stephen bristle at my comment, like he always did when Cody was around. Newsflash, you dick, your friends can be my friends, too. 

"Would be honoured, mister future star of basketball, the first shorty to ever reach that title," he mocked as he handed me the ball and he patted my head, lightly grinding his palm into my hair. He was only three inches taller than me and I reflexively swatted at his large hand, a small disgruntled sound coming from my throat. He found it funny, but I did not. 

"You're just jealous because I got skill and you just got height," I said defensively as I punched his arm lightly. It was my turn to laugh - which he joined in on. We turned our attention to Marcus and Stephen and I handed Marcus the ball. I knew better than to interact with my brother at moments like these. I got into place across from Marcus so that Cody could be across Stephen. Tall versus tall, short versus short. We proceeded to play a very good game of backyard basketball. No one kept count, violence was common, and screaming was a necessity. It was fun, like Cody's fifteenth birthday. 

The only "problem" was that Stephen pushed and hit me with the intent to hurt. 

But I chalked it up to him being him. Something normal for once today! We played the game with nothing particularly special happening other than me displaying my excellent basketball skills. Oh, and Cody and I got a little physical. After all, there's only so much you can do in a very heated game before you end up touching. It's just a matter of time.  
And I was more than a little excited. I think anyone would be, honestly. 

After about fourty minutes of sweating in the backyard and tossing a ball around, we went back into the back room. I collapsed onto the couch closest to the storage room. It was a mirror image of the other one except that Marcus and Stephen were lounging on the other. Cody just stood awkwardly in the space between them. "So, what's the plan and can I join?" he asked to anyone willing to answer. 

I laughed a little as I said, "Of course you can join! You're already in here, aren't you?"

"Marcus and Harley started with an ell oh tee are marathon, which I also joined in on," Stephen added. He sounded a little hopeful and factual, but I knew that he hated me being around his best friend. Too bad, though. 

"Cool, I guess I will too," he said with a wide smile. And then he sat on me. Let me say that again: _he sat on me._ He's six feet tall and he's not all that light. 

The  "Oomphuckin GOD don't SIT on me, fatASS!" I yelled as he made himself comfortable on my back. Picture it: me, spread out on a couch face-down; him, glittering in all his Adonis beauty as he rested on top of my lungs; everyone laughing except me. To put it into words: it was uncomfortable and there was no way I was getting out of it. 

"What? I can't hear you," he teased. I could feel my face getting red, both from the strain and the embarrassment. My revenge? Pinching his leg. I got a tiny bit of his muscular upper calve in between my fingers and I squeezed as if my life depended on it, and considering how hard it was to breath in this position, it was. "Oh SHIT FUCK OW!" he screamed in protest. 

My plan did work, though. He jumped off of me, almost falling to the floor as he did so, and I took the opportunity to roll off the couch. I landed on the ground with a thump and an "Ungh! Owies." I laid there for a second as both Marcus and Cody laughed loudly. I noticed that Marcus hadn't done any talking since Cody got here. I would wonder why, but I didn't really have the slightest clue. I decided to shove it to the back of my mind and get up from floor, as comfy as it was. 

"Finally got a comfy spot!" Cody said as he sat down in the vacant spot I left. I made a frowny face as I sat up, getting up at my own pace. 

"Rude," I stated matter-of-factly. I walked back to the DVD player, taking out the third and final CD and setting it in the tray. It closed and when the options came up, Stephen clicked on "play movie" as I sat down when I realized he had the remote. I picked up my bag of treats - which I still hadn't dug into yet - and I sat right next to Cody on the second couch, pushing him lightly. He pushed back lightly and I rolled my eyes and gave him a small smile. I took my Mountain Dew - which I needed to really thank Stephen for - and opened it, enjoying the fizz. As I took a small swig, I saw Cody look at it longingly. I eyed him but he kept it up. I relented and handed him the bottle, which he took a good drink from. It occurred to momentarily that he just slobbered all over my slobber as I took it back and continued drinking from. We continued to share _my_ drink. 

As the movie played, I was slowly taken into it as I was the previous two. I guess I just really get into movies. Even with Cody putting his arm on the back of the couch and across my shoulders, I couldn't pull myself away and pay attention to him. It was just not possible. I did find myself leaning towards him though (mostly because I could feel his armpit hair rub against my upper arm, even through my shirt). His very presence was inviting me to do so. 

He was so inviting, in fact, that as my head slumped onto his shoulder, I fell asleep. 


	8. Rationality, Chapter One - "Good deeds and good intentions can make some of the best things happen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me officially introduce you to Marcus  
> enjoy the read  
> yeah  
> peace <3  
> also i'll be taking a break until the twenty-sixth with a new chapter from stephen

Hello, Marcus? Where'd your brain go? You need to be conscious _and_ focused! Yes, today's events have been a little unordinary, but that's no reason to slip into your head. You are a Glover! You are known for speaking your mind. Don't fail me now, son.  
Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's what my dad would say right about now. I don't claim to know one fourth the things he does; I just claim to know one tenth of the things I know. 

Some of those things I know are that my bestfriend and his brother don't get along and I have done one of the worst things (in Harley's opinion) for the best reason (in my opinion): invited Stephen to watch movies with us because I didn't want his day to be the shitty day I knew it would.  
It totally wasn't because I liked him. Nope. In fact, I'd never really hung out with him before, so I didn't know if I liked him. When I saw him in front of his truck, screaming very threatening and abusive comments at it, I didn't think he'd notice me, let alone get in my face and scream. That's not something that's very... friendly. 

That's not going to stop me, though. Just because people aren't friendly doesn't mean I can't be. Sometimes, they're the people who need it the most - and sometimes, it completely changes how they act. Asking Stephen in a very calm voice if he wanted a ride was one of those things that proved that treating others nice was rewarded with being treated nice. 

It was a really good thing I did it, honestly. Or at least that's what I kept saying to myself as I sat in my car. The stink of a sweaty football player hung in the air like it was suspended by hooks. I didn't mind it all that much. I wouldn't mind if I smelled it a lot more - it smelled very healthy and strong, masculine and powerful. I thought it fit Stephen exceptionally well. 

I did have to get out eventually, though. Harley doesn't waste time - might explain his impatience - and I'd rather be at the door instead of have him come to the car and smell Stephen. I opened the door and stepped out, the scent of fresh air hitting me like a snowball. I practically slammed my door close - it didn't close otherwise - and hurried my way over to the lovely swinging thingy in front of the window. I always liked it and never understood why basically no one ever uses it.  
Might be because the backyard was much, much prettier. Thank you, Mr. Evans, for having a beautiful backyard. 

I wasn't even there for half a minute before I felt my phone buzz. Seriously, Harley? You couldn't just come out and say hi? You had to text me?  "iiiiii caaaaaan seeeeee youuuuuu" That's it? _Wow._ I turned around to see what he was doing in the window - and I knew he was doing something. That's just how he was - only to see his nose and lips and chin pressed into the clean glass. It wasn't clean no more. 

I already had my phone out so all I had to do was press one button, put it up, and press another button. Boom. Picture taken. I filed it in the "blackmail" folder in the back of my mind. This was going to come up eventually and I can't wait to laugh at it. Harley jumped out of the window and ran to the door. I, however, was not going to run. I'm too fancy for that. I flipped my burgundy-dyed hair out of my eyes - I really should cut it soon - and knocked my little door-knocking tune. It swung open and I swung my arm up and rested my elbow on the frame. I had my smirk on as I said with a sarcastic twang,  "Hey hottie, what brings you here?"

His reply was instant. "Food." My face dropped into my trademark pout and I felt the fabricated tears start. "And _you._ Ugh, your face is too good at that. Now stop it," he sighed and demanded with a slightly furrowed brow. I smiled, having won the battle. 

"So... do I get to come inside now?" Hey, it was a good question! I didn't want to be standing at the door for twenty minutes. I still was smiling, though, as I practically collapsed on the doorframe. 

"Abso _lute_ ly not," he said with heavy sarcasm as his hand wrapped around my shoulder and pushed it in a manner that would _seem_ as if I were coming in. Instead, I ended up lightly ramming into the other side of the doorframe before I was in. _Rude._ "Up to my room for now?"

Damn, that was fast! "Wow, not even going to let me say hi to everyone before disappearing into your _chateau_?" I practically spat out emphasis on that last word. I was already being shoved up the stairs so I quickly belted with all my screaming power,  "HOLA, MOMMA! HOLA, STEPHEN!"

Momma's reply was just as loud as my greeting. "HI, MARKY-BOO!"

Harley was a second too late to block out what Momma said as he said in a slightly annoyed tone (which was actually his normal tone except bitchier), "The word you are looking for is _boudoir,_ and no, now get moving! Hop to, hop to!" I bent my knees, ready to obey his command and hop, when he facepalmed and muttered,  "Don't actually hop." I rolled my eyes and walked normally up the stairs, laughing.  
We got to right in front of his room when he reached past me, slipping the rest of his body in front of me, and twisted the doorknob. "Ladies first." 

I rolled my eyes and quipped, "Oh, how _chivalrous!_ " Dragging my hand across his chest and wiggling my eyebrows seductively, I walked past him and into his very Harley bedroom. We laughed together after a second before he closed the door. I heard him move swiftly and then suddenly my wrists were pinned to his bed. 

Oh, honey, you don't know who you're messing with. I struggled for a little bit to see if I could get away. "Say you're my bitch. Say it!" he yelled when I realized that no, I was not going to get out of this in a simple way. I kept my mouth shut and I felt him get very close to the back of my head, the front of his pants rubbing against the back of mine slightly. He probably didn't notice, but I did. "Admit to the world you're my bitch," he whispered into my ear. 

Haha. No. Before he could get any smug ideas, I moved my foot out from in front of his and just to the right proceeded to topple his ass over when I kicked sideways. His leg gave out too easily and I would have laughed but I had a lesson to teach: don't _fuck_ with this bitch. 

With my hands free, I slammed his down and used all my strength and leverage to keep them there. My knee was in his gut to prevent attempts at escape. I felt his feeble attempt to get up end in failure and I said loudly with all superiority I could muster,  "Who's the bitch now, _bitch_?"

His response was weak like a man who has accepted defeat. "Me." 

I could have laughed at it but I didn't, resorting to saying,  "I can't hear you! I asked who is the bitch now!" I saw little droplets of spit fly out and hit him and I laughed a tiny bit as he cringed. This is what he gets. 

I dug my knee down just a little and he made whimpering sounds. "Me! I'm the bitch now! Now get the FUCK OFF OF ME!" I felt his stomach tense up as he yelled through gritted teeth. 

I decided he'd had enough. "As long as you know your place," I murmured with a smile and got off, standing proudly. He, however, clutched his stomach and whimpered a little. It might have been him taking a breath. "Oh, don't be a little bitch - it was only one knee and a little bit of pressure!" I rolled my eyes. 

"But I'm supposed to be the bitch now," he mumbled with a lopsided smile. He obviously hadn't been tortured enough. Harley stood a few seconds after and started making his bed. 

"Whatever, just quit your bitching," I muttered and leaned against his dresser as he went to work. I recalled what Stephen and I talked about earlier and decided to broach the topic. "So, anyways. Do you know what classes you got? There's only a couple days until junior year and we _need_ \- I repeat, _need_ \- to coordinate with everyone." I knew he was never going to go for it, but it was worth a shot. 

He rolled his eyes predictably and said exasperatedly,  "Dude, I do _not_ want to think about school right now, or how little I want to coordinate like we do _every fuckin' year!_ It is stupid that you guys want to --" 

"-- it's not stupid! It's convenient! And efficient! Do _not_ doubt my plans! And _besides_ , that's not what I meant! Almost everyone has AP classes and I know that they can't get out of them, so I _just_ want to coordinate who has what and when," I huffed. I was tired of hearing the same thing, even though everyone always did it and they actually enjoy being able to hang out with their friends! Do they think I heckle them for my health?  "After that, if anyone has free classes, then, y'know, we can do the _dumb_ thing and have classes so that I can actually _see_ my friends. But _whatever_ ," I continued, my voice level and frustrated. 

Harley laughed a small chuckle and I glared at him for a second, but he opened his mouth and conceded, "I have Studies with miss M first, AP English Lit with Newberg second, then Psychology with your dad third. That's all I know, but I think I have first Lunch and Music afterwards."

I didn't hear him say math and my instant reaction was to be jealous and slightly angry, "Shit, you got out of having math? Dude, what did you do besides sleep with mister Copera?" Seriously, what devil did he sign his soul off to and where can I find one? 

He rolled his eyes as he said, "It's called studying and you should do it some time." There was a small pause as we both smiled, then he continued, "But I have Physics with Bell, so I don't think I truly got away from math. Anyways, what do you know about everyone's schedules?"

I cleared my throat and gave him a look as if to say I knew everything. "I have Copera's math first; so does everyone except Lily - which is probably the best thing ever. God, I _hate_ her." I knew Harley was going to make some smarmy comment about my employment of, in our words, "an imaginariy figure that should only be invoked upon with sarcasm or during a crisis of faith" so I slapped my hand over his mouth to stop him and continued,  "Eathen and I have studies with M after that, and he has Psych with you." Everything was such old news to me, so I rolled my eyes and commented off-handedly, "Dude, just ask them and they'll tell you." I knew he wouldn't do it, but I didn't really care too much if he would or not. "But anyways, the only class I have is Applied Physics with George," I sighed discontentedly from being separated from my groupies. I guess it was fine though, 'cause I had that class with Stephen. I saw Harley's face do this weird motion thing that indicated he was thinking. It was quite a rare face. 

"Oh em gee," he blurted. I quizzically looked at him, but he continued unimpeded, "Oh em fuckin' gee. You have that class with Stephen!"

I didn't stop to think about what I was going to say. I just stated, "Yeah, I know." My heart stopped for a second as I realized that I just admitted to talking to Stephen without Harley's permission or knowledge. Then again, I didn't really have a chance for either of those things. My conciliatory logic did nothing to stop me from blurting out, "I gave him a ride home from practice and we got to talking and I casually asked him and that's _all_ , _I swear_! His truck wouldn't start so I was trying to be friendly! He's... _really_ not as bad as you make him out to be." I was prepared for his fit but it didn't come. Instead, he just had this pained look on his face as if he had been concentrating on taking a shit. I refrained from laughter at my own thought. 

Harley took a couple nice breaths before he said in a very unstable but calm voice,  "Oh... 'kay then. With that out of the way, you want to go watch some movies now?" I guess talk time was over. 

"Affirmative, sir," I replied stoicly before we both rushed to open the door and get downstairs. By the time we got the entertainment room, we were pushing each other to the side in order to get in there. I won, but only because I'm shorter and stronger, but we both said it was a draw - me out of pity and Harley so that he didn't have to say he lost. I leusirely crashed my ass into the middle of the couch closest to the door as he dug through the cabinet and pulled out "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy and looked at me with an eyebrow raised; I nodded that it was fine. 

He went to work putting it in as I hopefully waited for Stephen to join us. I felt the heat of Harley's body as he sat down to my left side; the lights dimmed and the movie began playing. It was only a couple minutes into it that I noticed Harley was staring very intently on the screen. Also, my face was like a lightbulb in every way (except shape and that I didn't emit light) as the door opened slowly and a not-so-mysterious someone slipped his head in and asked in a slightly timid and very awkward tone, "Can I join you?"


End file.
